


born on the 4th of july

by phae



Series: cyber heaven verse [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Birthday Presents, Clint is not an avenger, Fourth of July, Happy Centennial Steve!, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 17:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15199760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phae/pseuds/phae
Summary: Unfrozen super soldiers don't turn 100 every day, you know?





	born on the 4th of july

Clint fits one earbud in his ear, letting the attached microphone dangle as the call goes out and the usual ringing starts. Steve picks up just as he’s fitting a scope lens to his eye to best survey the apartment building three blocks down and one more over from where he’s perched.

He answers with his typical, “Steve Rogers.” Clint just rolls his eyes, well past the point of giving in to Steve’s attempts to troll him by acting like he doesn’t know who’s calling him nevermind that Steve’s the only person Clint’s ever let program a stable cell number into their contact list, and he  _damn well knows it’s Clint_.

“Left you a present,” Clint says instead, refocusing the lens for the appropriate distance.

There’s a brief shuffling, no doubt Steve turning to case his apartment until he spots the small gift Clint left sitting on his kitchen bar atop the fruit bowl. “Aw, you shouldn’t have,” Steve coos teasingly. Clint can practically hear the grin oozing from his voice.

“Don’t get all gooey about it,” Clint scoffs. “I only remembered it’s your birthday ‘cause all the red, white and blue was more glaringly obvious than usual.”

Steve hums down the line as if in agreement. “America does love my birthday.”

Clint barks out a short laugh. “I hate to break it to you, but all those fireworks ain’t for you.”

“What?” Steve gasps, and honestly, it’s a tad annoying how convincingly he can pull off incredulous outrage. “Next you’ll be telling me there’s no  _Santa Claus_ …”

Clint doesn’t bother replying, just waits for Steve to get tired of the silence and finally break in to his present. Clint can hear the paper ripping, which is surprising, ‘cause Clint always took Steve for the carefully-folds-the-paper-to-save-for-later type.

The sudden, joyous guffaw that Steve lets loose once he’s sifted through the clump of tissue paper and finds the vintage pin with it's suggestively worded slogan nestled inside–-that Clint _did_ know to expect, and it’s exactly what he was aiming for. He smirks as Steve demands, “Where on Earth did you even find this?”

“Antiques dealer I know keeps a look-out for kitschy shit like that for me.”

“Why do  _you_  know an antiques dealer?”

“You really think antiques dealers stay in business without picking up some less legal jobs on the side?”

“Are you telling me your elaborate network of fences is in fact a bunch of sweet old ladies who keep offering you tea and can’t haggle to save their lives?”

“What the hell kind of antiques shops do you frequent?”

Steve’s shaking his head at Clint now. Clint can even see it now, not just imagine it, because Steve’s finally wandered over to the glass doors that let out onto his apartment patio, well within Clint’s view from his own rooftop.

“So?” Clint asks as Steve’s laughter quietly dies away.

“So what?”

Clint leers, lets the suggestive tone drip from his words as he quips, “You gonna go off with me on the 4th, Birthday Boy?”

Clint watches Steve’s brows pinch together from half a mile away. “Wouldn’t you need to be here for that? Oh, wait. Is this a phone sex thing? Are we gonna sext now? Are you gonna put your eggplant in my peach?”

Clint ends up bent over at the waist, he starts laughing so hard. “What the ever-loving fuck, you dork?” he finally gasps out.

“Hey! I’m hip. I’m down with the 411. I know all about the emojos and the Netflix and fuck.”

“It’s Netflix and chill, and  _you know it,_ ” Clint gripes, already putting his scope away and twisting to repel down the side of the building. Steve’s delighted chuckles are literal music to his ears. “Whatever, old man. Just open your window in like a minute and a half, will ya?”

That catches Steve off guard. “You’re here?” he asks quietly, hopefully.

Clint’s meant to be in Europe still, and Steve very well knows it, but Steve had sounded so despondent last week when Clint had asked him what he was planning to do for his birthday, only saying that his goal for the day would be to avoid any and all attempts made by Stark to throw him a “surprise” party.

So, yes. Clint cut his very important, mainly illegal job overseas short and took two questionable connecting flights back to New York so he could be here for his boyfriend’s birthday.

Clint ascends the fire escape for most of the way up the apartment building, free-climbing the rest so that he can slip in through Steve’s bedroom window to greet him with a thorough kiss and, “Happy Birthday, Steve.”

Steve falls back easily to bounce on the mattress when Clint puts a hand to his chest and shoves lightly. “Birthday sex  _and_  fireworks?” he says giddily, looking up at Clint all bright eyes and bushy tail. “Best birthday ever.”

“Well,” Clint replies with a shrug, “Have to make it memorable somehow. Not every day you turn 100. Special occasion, and all.”

Steve just reels Clint in, then, and they set aside the banter for the morning after.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my [tumblr](http://phaeshmae.tumblr.com).
> 
> Steve's gift:


End file.
